Thischronicleis part of thephotographic workSubjectivecities, whicharises frommy experienceas a subject–urban,walker andresidentof the city, based onpriorunderstanding of whatit means to bea citizen.

Personal experienceis usedas a toolin buildingknowledgefor artistic creation, searching,withinthe local,a specific spacefor the studyof everyday life,from a veryparticular vision:The City and thesubject–urbantransitingin it,how they workwith each other andhow they developin their environment.

Tania Gonzalez Caracas-Venezuela 2014

CHRONICLE OF A WALKER

Early Sunday, a riotous shouts made me get out of bed, heading to the window overlooking the street just off the corner Heart of Jesus. At peek, even sleepy, I observed several motorized arguing, one with the bloody hand, the cries of the discussion were such that most of the residents of the building looked out through windows to observe and satisfy their curiosity.

As is typical in the city of Caracas, passersby, piled into the area to “enjoy” of that street fight. Absorbed, but at the same time indignant by urban circus, I continued, even from my window, watching. A woman in aggressive approaches to discussion, altered screams and flails a man dressed in shirt and jeans, the rest of the curious, enjoyed the show, and aupaban discussion, while traffic was starting to collapse.

Buses, vans and private cars per seat had no free passage to go his way, then, the ring was around the middle of the street. The concert horns all mingled with the cries of urban fighters, all shouted. A policeman tries to calm the uproar, but his authority was worthless at that moment. He saw decreased by street aggressiveness. The woman, motors and the injured man shouted. Apparently, everyone wanted to tell the police officer the version of events. Meanwhile, people go and walk around, some stop to look and others follow quickly for fear that from escalating the discussion.

Poli get two bikes Caracas, where riders stop their iron horses in the middle of the street as wanting to impose haughty image of authority to the present. An elderly woman tries to give his version of events, but police does not pay attention and silence sends two of those involved in the fight trying to leave but one of the police officers stopped him over, while the other police officer’s interrogates while impaired lady and man of bloody hand expect solution by side Poli Caracas. They spend no more than five minutes the man with the injured hand is taken to be treated at the headquarters of IPASME.

Beside the church Heart of Jesus, the man who wears a shirt and jean accompanied by another colleague mounted on his car. The injured person out with a bandaged hand goes together with the woman, police evict the voyeurs. Thrown from side their motor bikes, and traffic begins to flow again. I close the window of my room, it is worth noting that it is anti noise, I see the clock, it’s barely eight o’clock.What begining of Sunday !, I think aloud.

The sun was warm, I take another Encava to El Paraíso, then, and had walked past the jam. Finally came to the bakery where I usually have breakfast, I sit calmly take my breakfast and when I will pay I wonder “What did I brake?”, I was amazed by speculation that we print this city every day.Back at home, I took a bus via Capitol again.

Later, on Avenida Baralt, there was a stick again, a little louder than usual, it is spending a swarm of motorbike beside a hearse. They stop in the middle of the street and clog the road. “It’s a wake of a wrongdoer,” said the driver of the ENCAVA. A passenger, this time a man says “this is a thug! he was killed in that corner, beaten fifteen shots! “The driver of annoying bus closes the doors of the truck for safety, the funeral procession stops at the corner where apparently killed the deceased, take the urn, four men charged it, one at each corner, open it and start dancing to the deceased, motorized rolling in circles around the coffin, regardless of the strong and abusive obstruction of traffic, people crowd, women cry, men drink.

Of course, no police around, let alone a prosecutor to expedite traffic congestion generated by street wake. People within the Encava, are apprehensive and scared “because there are many thugs,” said one woman. Another passenger, with her child in her arms said “what we need is a shooting arme here”! Outside the horns of cars caught up in traffic hear, ending dance, put to death in his chariot and continue on their way, the bus “la camionetica” progresses, people give thanks to God not to step over. That happened to me, that Sunday.

Within the past installative experiences of participation, is the “Yellowing” piece. A work that emerges as a space for participatory experimentation color from the reinterpretation of the artist Cruz Diez chromosaturations who proposes “the street as support art expression “and the color as a playful experience capable of disrupting the everyday linearity of the individual in the city.

“Reflections” (2004) It is a proposal that focuses on the self-portrait, as a space for artistic research, from a fragmented visual discourse, as a critique of an increasingly virtual world, where the “social” networks, new technologies and the Internet have changed our relationship with the other, redefining the space-time relationship. The collective transformation of everyday life, resulting from the intercultural proximity offered by new information technologies. The subject abandons his identity as an individual is confused and lost. It is consumed.

“Genesis chapter11″It is a reflection off the innate human need to communicate, share and be part of the context, emerged from my experience as a subject-urban (foreign) in the city of Shanghai, China, during the filming of the documentary Expo Shanghai 2010 which I was directing.

This blog aims to rebuild my artistic memory, as of what is known as performative writing, that which, “it can become a vehicle of emancipation to the extent that promote a way of understanding our subjectivity” Della Pollock. I consider my work as a provocative force which opens the possibility of transgression in different ways and help me to get a better understanding of myself and the world I inhabit.